


Give You A Hand

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2018 SPNKinkBingo [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Dean catches you in the act...and is intrigued by your toy.





	Give You A Hand

It’s a simple toy; rubber and flesh-colored…and easily the size of your wrist. It’s thick enough that your fingertips barely touch when you close your hand around it, but it’s the only thing that’s ever gotten you off.

You’ve never finished with a guy before. Ever. And the smaller toys? They just don’t get you there. You run your thumb along the raised line of the vein lining the underside of dildo. It’s been a good while since you’ve done this, since you’ve hand the time, since you’ve had the  _energy_.

But this last hunt was beyond stressful, and you desperately need some relief. You’d spent four days camping out in those woods. Four  _long_ days, spent with the bugs, the spiders…the snakes - just so you could torch one damn wendigo.

You  _really_ hate your profession sometimes.

You tuck your thumbs into the double waistbands of your shorts and panties, tug them down and off your legs to kick them to your bedroom floor. With your fingers still clutching the rubber cock, you scoot back against your propped pillows and swipe the little bottle of lube off your night stand. With a quick glance to the door, you squeeze a generous amount onto the shaft, slick your fingers through the cool gel until the thing is thoroughly coated and ready.

You let your legs fall open, guide the toy down to glide through your folds, and let your thoughts wander…

To sparkling emerald eyes and full, warm lips. You press the rubber tip to your entrance just as your mind conjures a deep, rumbling voice that you can almost hear. A phantom hand closes around your breast over your shirt, another around around your thigh as the apparition whispers pure filth into your ear.

You’re working the length of the fake cock into your heat now, sighing at the way it stretches you open - and wishing it was something else,  _someone_ else filling you up so good. You start to work the thing in and out, and you can feel the first bubbling of a moan build deep in your chest when—

When your door swings open.

“Hey, you wanna—shit!” Dean’s eyes go wide and then he turns his head away, slams the door shut.

And…your libido  _implodes_ on itself, the ashes settling into overwhelming humiliation.

You toss your toy to the side, swing your legs over the bed until your bare feet smack against the polished floor, eyes frantically scanning for your discarded clothes.

Your heart pounds as you work the elastic band of your sleep shorts around your hips, thumbs dipping underneath to smooth it straight. You think you might throw up.

But you  _have_ to face him now. The longer you wait, the weirder it’ll be. At least you weren’t moaning his name. At least, you don’t  _think_ you were.

Dean’s halfway down the hall by the time you get the door open; head bent forward a little, bowed legs taking long, smooth strides.

“Hey!” you shout, not missing how he freezes, how his shoulders twitch at your bark, before stiffly turning back around.

You pad over to him, and god - you can feel your heartbeat pulsing under your scalding cheeks. You cross your arms. “We don’t knock anymore?”

He huffs a laugh; bashful, eyes still glued to the tiled hallway floor. He scratches at the back of his head. “Sorry, I um…I didn’t think you’d be….busy.”

“Yeah, well.” You tuck your arms a little tighter to you, drop your weight to your right foot. “Think again.” The words are mumbled, and gruff with agitation. You sigh. “So what did you want?”

He tries to meet your gaze, but fails repeatedly; eyes bouncing off your face to ping around the narrow corridor. “Well, um…since Sam’s already gone to bed, I thought me n’ you could hang a little bit.” He draws his shoulders up in a shrug. “I saw your light on under your door and—”

“Okay.” You throw a hand up, close your eyes and rapidly shake your head. “I think I got it.”

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’ll just um, I’m gonna go. Give you some space.”

“Don’t bother,” you grumble. “Moment’s gone.” You smile then, just a tight stretch of the lips as you try to lighten the situation. Dean’s eyes finally settle on yours and he returns the smile; relieved.

“So,” he crosses his arms, blinks at you and looks away again. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite read…a little mischievous, a little pensive. “I uh…I couldn’t help but notice your um…your toy.”

“Yeah?” You playfully narrow your eyes. “You feel emasculated?”

“Uh, no,” he chuckles, prideful. “Not at all.” His eyes spark with mirth. “I’s just kind of…impressed.”

You swallow. “Yeah?”

“Looked like you were takin’ it pretty well.”

 _Fuck_.

There’s a fresh wave of heat bursting under your skin now, at Dean’s off-color statement, and your mouth is suddenly desert-dry.

Your shrug is casual despite your racing heart. “I like what I like.”

Dean licks his full lower lip into his mouth, clamps it between both rows of perfect teeth. “And uh…whaddya like?” He arches a brow as he waits for your answer.

What fucking game is he playing?

Your brain feels like static; like an old analog television that’s gone off the air. “Big.”

Ah, shit. Really, brain?

“I can tell,” he grins. He almost looks predatory. “Looked like a goddamn arm shoved up in you.”

Your stomach drops, and shit - is it possible for your face to actually melt? Because right now you’re feeling very much like the nazis at the end of  _Raiders of the Lost Ark._

“Wow,” you croak, eyes wide. “That’s a little-”

“Hot?” he finishes for you.

“What?” How did he know? You don’t even know. Is that actually hot? Or are you just flustered because he said it?

He takes a step toward you, worries at his lip. “I’m just sayin’.” His eyes rove over you as he takes another step. “I’m kind of intrigued. I mean, if you can take  _that_ thing…makes me wonder if you could take my whole fist.”

“ _Excuse_ me? Are you drunk or something?”

Who the fuck does he think he is? God, he smells good.

Dean sighs. “Could we…” He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Could we stop dancin’ around this?” He wags a finger between you. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, I  _know_ you’ve seen the way I look at you…” He huffs a small laugh, eyes crinkling as his face breaks into a boyish smile. “‘Specially when you wear those jeans - y’know…the ones with the little tear-”

You raise a halting hand, “Okay, enough.” You take a breath. “Look, dude. You know why we can’t…We’re hunters, ya know?”

Dean doesn’t lose his smile as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m not askin’ you to marry me. I just wanna have some fun.”

Well, if he’s gonna put it  _that_ way…

*****

It’s a little unfair, you think, that you’re very naked and Dean’s very not…naked. But you’re not one to complain when the hunter’s tongue is buried deep in your cunt, full upper lip spread across the hood of your clit. He’s got both hands looped around your thighs as he eats you with fervor.

Your own hands fist at your sheets, fingers curling into the softness as Dean licks you higher and higher. He pulls away just when you think the band is about to snap, leaves you hot, pulsing, and achy.

He’s kneeling on the floor, your bent knees and widely spread thighs framing the breadth of his shoulders. You watch his hand as he reaches for the little bottle, how it dwarfs the plastic tube.

You may not be walking after this.

He slicks his hand up with your favorite lubricant until it looks like he’s wearing a clear, shiny glove. And then he brings his hand between your legs to slip two gelled fingers through your heated folds. You let out a little sigh when he dips the tips of two slippery-cool fingers into you, pushes _in-in-in_ until he’s knuckle-deep. He steadily pumps you for several seconds before scissoring those thick fingers, stretching you open.

“Feel good?” he murmurs, turns to press a warm kiss to the inside of your right knee.

“Yeah,” you groan, flex your hips into his working hand.

Your back arches a little when Dean works a third finger into you. Fuck, it feels  _amazing_ just to have  _any_ part of the hunter inside you.

“S’good,” he rumbles. “You’re doin’ awesome. That hungry little pussy’s suckin’ my fingers right in.”

 _That_ makes you clench.

“Fan of dirty talk, huh?”

“Shut up,” you gasp.

He’s thrusting three fingers into you now - not too fast, not too slow; just a slow-steady plunge deep into your heat.

You stiffen at the first nudge of a fourth finger, but then Dean’s smoothing his free hand along the length of your thigh. “S’okay, just relax for me…”

There’s something about the deep softness of his voice, the warmth of his stroking hand, that has you melting into the memory foam of your bed. “Atta girl…”

You’re stuffed full of four hunting-hardened fingers now. And it feels  _phenomenal_. You’re unbelievably stretched, but you want  _more_. With his fingers loosely curled inside you, he fits his palm against your clit, just enough for you to feel the meaty heel of it.

And then he’s gently slicking in and out, dragging smooth and wet against your walls. Once you’ve had time to adjust, he stills. You can hear him squeeze the bottle, can hear the wet suction just before a cold glob drops to where the underside of his fingers meet the stretched flesh of your entrance.

Your jaw clenches, muscles go rigid when Dean’s thumb starts to worm its way in. “Easy,” he murmurs, warm hand starting comforting strokes over your thigh once again. “M’goin’ slow.”

With a nod, you push out a slow breath, will your muscles to relax. It seems to work, because then you can feel his thumb slip in to the first knuckle.

“Damn, kiddo,” Dean breathes. “You oughtta see this. So fuckin’ hot.”

“Are…are you in?”

“Not yet. This is the trickiest part. I need ya to breathe, okay? Don’t think about what I’m doin’, just breathe for me.”

“Okay.”

His hand flexes, just a twitch, and then he’s corkscrewing - left and right, left and right - sinking in centimeter…by…centimeter.

You’re full now, too full, almost uncomfortable - but then Dean’s groaning so deep, shifting forward to brace himself on the foot of the bed - and  _oh_ , that makes him shift  _inside_.

“I’m in, baby.”

“Holy shit. Fuck me…please.”

He goes careful-slow, makes these little soft, shallow punching motions, but it feels so incredible that you can already feel the first tightening pulls of an impending climax.

“This okay?”

“Shiiit…ye-yes! Oh, fuck…”

He chuckles faintly, but keeps his arm moving. “Hey, can you sit up a little bit? Wantcha to see somethin’.”

You get your weight on your elbows, lean up, look down…

God. There’s fist sized lump at the base of your lower belly. You can see the skin rolling with his movements, and it makes you all too aware of the way your walls are clutching onto the hunter’s broad wrist.

“Fuck,” you breathe, shaky.

He doesn’t cease his movements, keeps shoving into you with shallow little drives, but then he gets his thumb on your clit, swipes over and over. You gasp, let yourself drop back to the sheets as he forces tingling heat to sprout up the length of you.

Your blood turns to lava, gets hotter and hotter with each pass of the calloused pad of his thumb. You feel his eyes on you, feel the twin pools of green drinking in every inch of your sweat-slick body.

You’re moaning now, lost-deep in your throat, as his thumb blurs over your aching clit–

“Fuuuck,” Dean groans, fucks his hand a little faster, a little harder into you. You can feel the way his fingers curl deep inside, the way his knuckles press against the entrance to your womb. Everything’s tensing, igniting inside you, and you’re packed so tight with pleasure you think you might explode any second.

He’s punching into you hard enough now that your body rocks against the mattress, and your fingers scrunch into the crumpled sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. His thumb leaves you only to be replaced by his hot mouth, plump lips sealing hard around your clit, tongue darting out to flicker at the pulsing nub. He shoves a hand under the small of your back, arching you up into his face, slanting your hips–

Oh  _god_ , this angle. The slight shift of your hips forces his balled hand  _impossibly_ deeper, sends pleasure sparking up your spine. He starts working his mouth in a way that rakes his blunt teeth across your swollen flesh and–oh  _hell_ , you’re  _keening_ at the ceiling.

Dean makes a noise; a kind of moaning, humming grunt that sends delicious vibrations thrumming deep into your cunt–

“Fuck, Dean! Fuck-oh-fuck-oh- _fuck!”_

It’s the most painful-pleasurable orgasm you’ve ever had, the way your muscles clamp and ripple around him, and god, his mouth isn’t stopping.

“Dean, please…please!” You thump your palms against the damp-soft spikes of his hair and push–

He grants you mercy, releases you, breaking away to reveal shiny lips and flushed cheeks. You groan together as he eases his hand from your slick, twitching cunt. His absence leaving you wildly empty and gaping.

Dean rises, stiff, gets his knees on the bed to crawl up the bare length of you to cage you between his iron arms. He ducks in, licks deep and hungry into your mouth.

“Wow,” you breathe, still shaking when he pulls away. “That was…thank you.”

Dean laughs, drags a thumb along the curve of your lower lip. “Anytime…I’m always happy to give you a hand.”


End file.
